Pest Control
by Thalion Estel
Summary: Amid the end-of-the-semester turmoil, Thalion Estel finds herself with two uninvited guests who may or may not be some of her overly neglected muses. Even though these muses' presence is rather frustrating and distracting, they might actually prove to be useful when it comes to the eradication of certain pests. Short, 3 chapter fic. Tribute to my last batch of college roommies.
1. In Which Muses are Passive-Aggressive

**Author's Note: This is just a short story (it should have 3 small chapters when all is said and done and posted) that I somehow managed to whip up during this crazy summer. I am desperately trying to pull my creative muse together to get more written as far as unfinished stories (yes, I'm talking about** _ **Conspiracies**_ **) and other new ones; y'all will just have to have patience with me. I'm sorry I haven't been able to post much of anything lately, but trust me, I'm just as sad as you are (unless you don't really miss Estel's ridiculous creations, which is understandable; in that case, I am more sad than you).**

 **Anyway, this is in the same universe as my story** _ **Rangers vs. Roomies**_ **, but it is not dependent on anything. I hope y'all enjoy this; I would really appreciate some feedback if you have the time to review. Thanks so much for reading!**

 **. . .**

 **Dedicated to my three roommates from my last year in college. Thanks for putting up with me and all my nerdy weirdness and for being encouraging as we endured some crazy stuff together! I miss y'all!**

 **. . .**

Estel gave the kids a last wave goodbye before slamming her foot on the gas and speeding down the street. No, they weren't _her_ kids. She happened to be their babysitter, an occupation she kept up alongside her other part-time gig as well as a full-time load of college classes. It wasn't actually as much as it sounded to be; after all, she still had plenty of time to spend hanging out with a certain _someone_ , not to mention getting a few hours' sleep most nights.

But that was all coming to a close. This was the last week of classes; next week, there would be time to read and study, and then there would be finals. Then it would end; she would graduate and have to leave her beloved school, friends, and professors. It was a sad thought.

Leaving this babysitting job was…far less sad. Thalion had encountered her fair share of Sauron's minions over the years, but she had no idea how the Dark Lord had managed to cram so much wickedness into one child. Sure, the girl was alright, but the little boy? Estel would prefer watching a soap opera with Morgoth in Yankee Stadium to watching that kid. But now it was over; she was done forever.

The kids always tried to race Estel's car when she departed, but she gave them no chance today. The car—Nahar, by name—pealed around the corner and sped off, enjoying the moments of freedom before the line of cars that was sure to follow. The traffic was always nasty at 5:30, but Estel didn't mind so much now. She was just happy to have escaped the kids mostly unscathed.

Unfortunately, there is a large population of panhandlers in the city of Estel's college who routinely stand at intersections and beg for money. Thalion never gave them anything (unless you count the prayers on their behalf, which she did indeed issue forth); honestly, she was probably nearly as broke as the panhandlers themselves. However, as Estel found herself in a very long line of cars waiting for an eternal red light to change, the writer's attention was drawn to a couple figures who were standing on the median with cardboard signs. She wasn't sure at first what caught her eye about these particular beggars. Perhaps it was their height; both were exceedingly tall. Maybe it was their clothes; both wore long, travel-stained garments with hoods and long cloaks. It could have been the two-handed swords that dangled from their belts—

 _Swords_?! Estel did a double-take and focused her full attention on the two figures. They each held a cardboard sign, and while she couldn't make out what the one farthest from her said, she could read the sign of the first man.

 _Writerless muse. Need stories. Eru bless._

And then it was all too obvious who these men were, even before the first figure lifted his head so that his face was visible. Aragorn, son of Arathorn. And Estel could only assume that behind him was Faramir, Prince of Ithilien. A very diverse mixture of emotions and thoughts were swirling in Estel's mind, including being very frustrated with the patheticness of her muses and also being slightly impressed by their hardcore, passive-aggressive attack. Still, the end result was that she groaned and nearly let her forehead slam onto the steering wheel.

Aragorn locked eyes with his intended target and smirked, waving a gloved hand and waiting patiently to be offered a ride. His steward seemed to notice the king's gesture, and he too looked up at Estel. He was always more humble and polite, though; he gave a sad smile and small, child-like wave to copy Aragorn.

Thalion gave a very long sigh before unlocking her doors and thrusting her thumb towards the backseat of her car. The two rangers happily obliged, rushing to the car and climbing in the back, which was still covered in fruit snacks (and—alas!—saliva) from the kids' trip home from school. Aragorn and Faramir made do as the light turned green and the car lurched forward.

"Really, guys?" Estel asked, shaking her head as she made a left turn and accelerated down the street. "Really?"

"What, didn't you think our costumes creative?" Aragorn inquired with a grin as he shoved his cardboard sign down beside his cramped legs. "And what exactly prohibits one of us from sitting in the front?"

Thalion rolled her eyes and shook her head again, but a tiny smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "Because you're not the only ones who will be riding in this car. You should know that; why do you think I haven't been writing lately?"

"Ah, yes," Faramir chimed in cheerfully. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting…um…"

"Edennil," Estel happily informed her muse.

"Friend of men," Aragorn translated. "The name seems fitting from all I have heard, if your reports of his kindness are indeed accurate. But he must have a very high destiny to possess any name of Finrod Felagund."

"He does indeed," Thalion affirmed. "I can tell."

"How?" asked the inquisitive Faramir.

"Woman's intuition, obviously," the writer replied with a chuckle as she pulled into the desired apartment complex. "We're about to pick him up, so be nice."

"Why do you have to pick him up?" Aragorn asked.

"Well," sighed the writer, "Geerhardus met an unfortunately end, so both of us have to share Nahar since it's out of the question for his family to buy another vehicle at this point."

"Geer-what?"

"Geerhardus," Estel repeated. "The deadly rust of Michigan sadly ate away at his car-body until he had to at last be slain for his own sake. Now no more questions; you guys have interrupted my day enough." The writer paused, turning back to look at her passengers as she put her car in park. "Why are y'all here, anyway?"

After recovering from the Tragedy of Geerhardus, Aragorn nodded to Faramir, who reluctantly began a short explanation. "We have felt a lack of purpose as of late, particularly in the area of creativity. No stories have been written in months, and that is not healthy for a muse's disposition."

"So you're bored, basically," Thalion huffed.

"We're needed," Aragorn countered. "This isn't just about us—though we are getting a bit 'stir-crazy,' you could say. You need to write again; it's been too long, and if you don't pen something soon, you risk losing your touch and your passion."

The writer was silent as she drew out her phone and sent Edennil a message to announce her arrival at his apartment. She didn't want to admit it, but her muses were right. She didn't regret the way she had spent her time in these past two semesters, but she really did need an outlet for her creativity. Maybe their presence for an afternoon would help her.

"This better be a short visit," she answered at last. "I have a fifteen page paper due in two days."

"We might be of some assistance in writing it," Faramir offered.

"It's not a story," Thalion responded slowly, "but it will be a fun one to write, and as long as you're actually helpful, not distracting, I guess I could use more pairs of eyes to look for information and edits. Edennil has already enlisted his services, but if you really want to, you can back him up. But no stories until we do the paper. Deal?"

"Deal," Aragorn affirmed on behalf of both. "What is the paper topic?"

Estel grinned proudly. "The resurrection of the body. This has the makings of being the best paper I've ever written."

Before she could say more, Edennil appeared outside the passenger window. He smiled and waved at Thalion, who proceeded to unlock the door for him to enter, but his smile temporarily disappeared when he saw the two rather intimidating figures sitting in the back seat. At first, there was a trace of suspicion which quickly vanished as he recognized the rangers. Once he knew who the men were, the smile returned (one which was polite and very friendly; hence his name), and he extended a hand.

"Hello," he greeted pleasantly. "Estel has told me a lot about you. You must be Aragorn and Faramir, right?"

"That is correct," the king said, taking Edennil's hand and shaking it firmly, the steward eventually following the Dúnadan's example.

That was all it took. The three men immediately dived into deep conversation while Estel chuckled to herself, put the car in reverse, and pulled out of the parking space. She listened to some of their talk on the way back to her apartment, but she was more focused on the dilemma of what would happen when she got there. This wasn't like last year; she couldn't just bring people over to the apartment without having her roommates' permission. And that license could be hard to secure at times; the college life is a hectic one, after all.

 _I'll just have to take the adventure that comes to me_ , the writer concluded as she entered her code into the apartment's gate keypad and drove the company to her building. She was both glad and nervous to see two familiar cars in the apartment's parking spaces. This meant she wouldn't have to issue a text to the group since everyone was home (and what exactly would such a text have said?). But this also meant that she could not avoid her roommates meeting her…friends.


	2. In Which a Certain Pest Surfaces

**Author's Note: Hey there, y'all! Sorry it's taken me a bit to get this chapter up. If it makes you feel better, last night was my first night of decent sleep in a week, so it's not like I have had a ton of free time. But at long last, here's the second installment; hopefully I'll put up the last one pretty soon. Thank you for reading; I hope you enjoy!**

…

"Best behavior," Estel charged her crew as she climbed out of the driver's seat and onto the pavement outside her apartment. "I'll let y'all inside in just a minute."

Before Aragorn could protest the dishonor of his royal person being left in the backseat of a tiny sedan, Thalion let her car door slam and walked up to the apartment's entrance. She unlocked the door and took a deep breath, stepping inside with no small amount of trepidation.

A single roommate was inside the living room, the only one who had also roomed with Estel in her freshman year. This was good because it meant this girl had met these two rangers before when they had crashed her apartment last year to watch the first baseball game of the season. This was bad because it meant she would know at least a portion of what was going on.

"Hey," Thalion greeted with a sheepish smile. "Um, do you remember those two, uh, guys that showed up last year at the apartment? Kind of tall, weird clothes…"

"Yep!" came the cheerful reply as the girl looked up from a book. Thalion swallowed hard.

"Well, they showed up again. I know it's last minute, but they sort of need a place to hang out for the evening. Edennil will be here, too. Is that okay? Sorry it's such short notice." _It's not like they were kind enough to notify me, either._

The roommate paused for a second, but the writer could not read her expression. "Sure!" the girl concluded after a moment. "That's fine with me! I'm not quite sure how the others will take it, though. It's kind of…weird."

"Yeah," Thalion said slowly. It _was_ a very awkward situation. Suddenly, a rather brilliant idea entered Estel's mind. "I'll have them act as our pest control!"

"What?"

"They can be here on my request to look into our pest problem! They probably know a thing or two about those demonic bugs that keep showing up anyway. I'll have them check some things as cause to come in, and then out of my southern hospitality, I'll let them stay a while."

The roommate grinned. "I'm cool with that. I'd love to get rid of the spiders and roaches."

Thalion nodded and rushed off to ask permission from the other two roommates, both of whom were watching a something together (a show which sounded a lot like Downton Abbey, but Estel couldn't be sure since that fandom was _way_ outside her league). The writer gave her explanation with as good of wording as she could create, and though there was indeed some hesitancy, the two agreed to allow the writer's muses to come inside. No one likes pests, after all.

"We're almost done with our episode," one said, "and then we'll be making dinner. Is that okay?"

"For sure!" Thalion said, wondering what that would mean for later on. But right now, what mattered was that she had permission. She rushed back out the front door and to her car where the three men were still talking.

"You guys have to try to take care of our pest problem," Estel told them as she opened door to the back seat so that the two Gondorians could pile out. "That's the only thing I could think of that would get you in without causing too much ruckus."

"Ruckus?" asked Aragorn incredulously. "What about our character would ever give you that idea?" Estel look down at the long sword on the ranger's belt and rolled her eyes.

"Weapons stay in the car," she ordered before turning her face toward the apartment and stepping beside Edennil. She gave him a smile that subtly communicated her stress level, and he gently took her hand and squeezed it.

"It'll be fine," he told her quietly, giving her a look of reassurance.

Estel's smile became more genuine, and she walked with Edennil, hand in hand, through the apartment's front door. The two rangers brought up the rear as the company stepped into the living room and surveyed the interior.

"Take your shoes off," the writer instructed, pointing to the pile of footwear beside the door. "And don't be loud; this is a study-zone."

"Good evening, my lady," Faramir said pleasantly to the roommate who was seated on the couch. "We have met before, correct?"

The roommate nodded, and Faramir gave his typical, polite smile. "It is, again, a pleasure."

Aragorn issued similar pleasantries while Edennil and Estel tried to find a way for the two rangers to do some kind of pest control. They gathered some random objects from around the apartment that looked to have an effect on insects, handing them over to the rangers.

"Just look like you know what you're doing," the writer said, "and stay at it for a little while. Also, be careful; based on the size of the spider I killed last week, it is not impossible that the offspring of Shelob live in this apartment."

Faramir's eyes widened in horror, but both rangers bravely took their tools in hand and half-pretended-half-actually-attempted to scope out any places that bugs might be hiding. Estel and Edennil retreated to the floor near an outlet and began working on their homework, the guests fielding the occasional academic question to help the college kids get their work done.

Soon, however, the more or less quiet atmosphere was filled with tension as the other two roommates appeared. They were, naturally, very disturbed by the appearance of the rangers—their size, clothes, and demeanor stuck out like a Presbyterian at a charismatic concert. Running into folk such as them is obviously not a common thing for most normal people, and it can be startling. However, out of the charity in their hearts (something which must be possessed if one is to tolerate living with someone like Thalion in the first place), they didn't press the issue. Instead, they went into the kitchen and started whipping something together on the stove.

"So," Aragorn said, spraying some Windex on a floorboard aimlessly, "you guys, uh, trying to get rid of some…pests?"

One of the roommates in the kitchen scoffed and pointed upwards. "Honestly, I feel like those folks up there are the real pests in this apartment. I can handle bugs all day long, but I've been kept up all _night_ long one too many times."

"Mmhmm," the other roommate agreed. "It's amazing how loudly and often people can slam a door."

As if to prove the point, there was suddenly a loud creaking noise followed by a bang that literally shook the apartment walls. Then heavy footfalls could be heard as someone climbed the stairs that led to the floor above. A series of unrealistically loud thuds and slams followed in various places on the ceiling. The rangers were dumbfounded.

"This happens all the time?" Faramir asked, raising his eyebrows. "Even at night?"

The roommate on the couch nodded vigorously. "Yep. We complained to the office, but they shut us down and basically said we were being dramatic."

A very loud bang resounded around the apartment, and both rangers straightened up. "I'm sure something can be done about this," Aragorn said slowly, glancing at Estel. The writer only shrugged her shoulders. She had thought about going to the door and asking the neighbors to be quiet a hundred times, but if they were offended, she would still have to live with them. A stranger, on the other hand, could speak more or less anonymously. Still, it was risky.

"Why don't we have a little chat with them?" Faramir suggested. "We'll be right back."

Neither Edennil nor the girls said anything in response, and since Aragorn is sort of a king, he made his own decision without any trouble. "An excellent idea, my wise steward," Aragorn said before realizing that the use of this title for Faramir probably wasn't helping them remain incognito in front of the roommates. He grimaced and turned to the writer for help, but all she could do was role her eyes. "Er," the king stammered, "I mean, Stewart. Yeah, Stewart. Come, Stewy."

Faramir, who was completely oblivious to the slip up, looked to his master with great confusion, but Aragorn quickly led the two of them out the front door and to the left, following the exterior of the apartment building until they reached the neighbor's front door. It took all Thalion's willpower to keep the giggles inside at Aragorn's ridiculously poor attempt to mop up his mess, but no one said anything as they waited to see what would happen.

The sound of knocking rang in the air, and it seemed that all those sitting in the apartment held their breath. Footsteps echoed from the stairs as someone went to see who the visitor was. The door creaked open, and voices were heard, though Estel couldn't distinguish the words. For a minute or two, it seemed that the conversation was civil. But after a while, it got a bit more heated, and Estel wished very much that she could melt into a pile of goo and disappear. Her muses were ruining her existence; the neighbors would probably make her and her roommates' lives miserable from now on. And that's hoping the police wouldn't be called.

Suddenly, the door slammed with mighty force, making the wall hangings and windows rattle violently. Angry footsteps went upstairs and angry footsteps went around the outside of the apartment to the front door. Aragorn's face, red with frustration and heated argument, appeared in the doorway.

"Estel, would you be kind enough to unlock your car? I believe I left some tools in there."

The writer cocked her head to one side as she tried to process what had been asked of her. Then a ferocious chill seized her blood stream, and she swallowed hard. There was only one thing in the car that the rangers could want. Their weapons.


	3. In Which the Pest is Dealt With

**Author's Note: And here, at long last, is the final installment. Hopefully y'all enjoy the ending to this well-that-escalated-quickly story. :)**

…

The writer's mouth gaped at the thought of armed rangers storming her neighbor's apartment. Even though her roommates had no idea what the muses could want out of Estel's car, surely they could guess by Thalion's face that the request from Aragorn was not innocent. But, trying to keep her cool in front of the apartment's occupants, the writer summoned her wits. "I don't think that will be necess—"

"Quiet, peasant; do as I ask," the king snapped impatiently before realizing his setting and adding "please" to the end of the sentence. Thalion's heart was beating rapidly, and she had no idea what to do. She turned to Edennil for some sort of answer, and by the grace of the Valar, she received one. He discreetly leaned over and whispered in her ear.

"Trust 'em. They know better than to do anything really stupid."

Estel would have combatted the suggestion by pointing out that she, in fact, had far more experience with the rangers in question than Edennil did, but she knew that he was right. And Aragorn was not one to be crossed; she could see it in his fiery, Númenórean eyes. So with her mind racing to imagine all the awful things that must certainly be about to transpire, she dug her keys from her pocket and clicked the button to unlock the car.

"Please be courteous," she called out uselessly as Aragorn disappeared once again.

The writer did not dare lift her gaze to see her roommates' faces as the doors of her car opened and closed outside. She desperately hoped no one would be able to guess what the cargo was that Aragorn was so intent on recovering. She could distinctly hear the ring of swords being unsheathed as the rangers approached the neighbor's door once again, but it was thankfully not loud or distinguishable to someone who wasn't looking to hear it.

Instead of a polite knock, the relative silence was shattered by a violent pounding on the door, no doubt coming from a strong fist. Thalion clasped Edennil's hand, certain that this was the end of her sanity. Footsteps banged down the stairs as the door was opened. A shout issued forth, but it was immediately silenced. Estel prayed that it was the mere sight of the rangers that made the neighbor cease. Stern words were spoken by one who Thalion knew to the Aragorn, the nobility and ferocity of his voice giving him away. This went on only a minute or two before a soft closing of the door was heard and footsteps headed back to the front of Estel's apartment.

Thalion expected to see the two rangers enter the front door, but instead, a complete stranger stepped into the room, startling the fanfiction writer so that she let out a small gasp. The man's face was red, though Estel couldn't tell if it was from anger, fear, or embarrassment. He wore a dirty white shirt and a pair of stained, wrinkled, and torn jeans. His face needed a shave, and his brown hair was also unkempt. He was, in short, a mess—but a humbled mess, if nothing else. Aragorn, whose face was as solemn as a statue, proudly stepped in behind him, giving the man a shove from behind.

"I must apologize profusely for the irresponsibility of my apartment's occupants to you, my innocent neighbors," the man said, looking at his shoes and shifting his feet nervously. "Our selfish actions were no doubt a great disruption to your lives, and we repent wholeheartedly."

Estel had to choke back a chuckle; these were clearly not words the man had made up himself. "In the future," he continued, "we shall strive to think of others and be respectful of their property, time, and schedule. Thank you for your patience with us."

"Good," Aragorn murmured, sounding like a man who has finally made a disobedient dog sit down.

"Can I leave now?" the man tried to whisper to the ranger, though Estel could hear the desperate plea easily.

"Please do," the king of Gondor replied. "My friend will escort you home."

Faramir suddenly appeared in the doorway, nodding firmly for the man to follow him outside. The said man obliged gladly, not even turning his face to look back at the room of confused-yet-secretly-gleeful college kids.

"Thanks; goodnight!" Estel called after the neighbor when she recovered her sense, attempting to show some amount of decency. Hopefully her politeness would keep the man from phoning the cops. The man did not look up, but Thalion was pretty sure she had been heard.

The room was deathly silent as the ranger strode back inside and took up his bottle of Windex again, spraying a random spot on the wall. Faramir soon returned, and everyone noticed that any sound of a door slamming or footsteps walking had not been audible. The steward grinned innocently before moving to join his fellow.

The awkwardness which hung over the apartment was interrupted by the wonderful, hearty laugh of Edennil at Estel's side. Then, of course, Thalion had to laugh, too. The three roommates joined in, and everyone felt the tension in the room dissipate like a fog at sunrise. The rangers looked up from their fake duties in confusion, though both smiled courteously anyway.

"I think you've probably taken care of enough pests tonight," Estel said happily. "Why don't you take a break and help us study? I'll throw some taquitos in the oven, and we'll make the most of the quiet."

The rangers gladly obliged, and the evening became what Thalion would venture to call _merry_. Aragorn and Faramir didn't just help Estel or even Edennil; they were actually good study-buddies for everyone. The fanfiction writer couldn't help but wonder if the rangers had been stealing her textbooks just to prepare for moments like this. After all, they seemed to know more than they should about things like the supralapsarian vs. infralapsarian controversy, the heretical teachings of Friedrich Schleiermacher, and the starting lineup of the Texas Rangers (okay, the last one wasn't for homework…but it is obviously extremely important anyway).

Merriment, however, cannot last forever, especially in college. After the greasy taquitos had been consumed and the homework had been given due attention (for it is never fully completed, you understand), the rangers knew that they needed to leave the students to their tasks. They stealthily slipped a list of story ideas to Estel as she walked them to the door, fully expecting compensation for their pest control. The writer frowned as she shoved the note in her pocket with a grunt and opened the door.

"Maybe you should go smooth things over with the neighbors," she told Aragorn and Faramir quietly as they headed out to…um…somewhere. "You ought to be more…"

"Nice?" Aragorn asked, seemingly reading the writer's mind. Estel shrugged and stepped onto the sidewalk, letting the door fall closed behind her. Aragorn shook his head slowly. "If everyone who was always good was also always nice, many more injustices would exist in this world." He let out a long sigh. "But I understand your meaning, and I will take thought to it."

"There haven't been many people who were always good anyways," Estel countered, letting her theology show. "Just one."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," the king waved away the correction. "I am not attempting to give a Sunday school lesson. But I will see to the 'being nice' issue."

The writer wasn't sure exactly what that meant, but she decided not to press it any further. She waved goodbye to her muses as they wandered into the night, turning her hand to fan herself as the Florida humidity quickly penetrated her skin to agitate her soul. But just before she went back in, she heard Faramir call from behind her.

"Please don't forget to write! We muses really need an outlet every now and again!"

Estel nodded curtly, knowing internally that the poor steward's fears were all too likely to be true.

…

 **Thank you all so much for reading this silly little story! We'll see what I can do to put out some more content; things are just so busy. And I don't mean busy like I have a million things to do all day. I mean busy like I'm gone at work 12 hours a day and THEN I come home and do the million things that have to get done. But the muses are most certainly not dead (as this story has hopefully proven in more ways than one), so I hope to work on some other projects soon. Again, thank you so much for taking the time to read this, and if you have a moment, I'd love to hear what you thought of it!**


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